Sparring isn't always for skill
by sharkinterviewee
Summary: When Gamora insisted she was going to start training him more in close range combat with blades, she knew what would happen. Peter, predictably, whined. She was expecting it, but it was still a bit much.


When Gamora insisted she was going to start training him more in close range combat with blades, she knew what would happen. Peter, predictably, whined. She was expecting it, but it was still a bit much.

"But Gammmoooorrrrrrrraaaa-" Peter dragged on obnoxiously.

"Peter, you need to be more proficient it _all_ areas of combat," she cut off his complaining with a sharp look. "And you need to become comfortable with blades. You won't always be able to fall back on long range attacks or fist fights. Guns will not always be an option. You need to familiarize yourself with swords and knives, because now they are your blind spots in combat. Long-range weapons are your strength. You know next to nothing about sword fighting, offense or defense."

"Yeah, well, usually if an enemy is close enough to stab me, that means I'm doing something _wrong_ ," he muttered under his breath.

If she had any thoughts about how he was pouting like a child in defiance right now (and that maybe it was the slightest bit cute) she chose to keep them to herself.

* * *

They were two weeks into their intensive training routine. Today and yesterday they were working with 6 inch daggers, and whenever they were sparring she told him to go all out. At first he was pretty hesitant, and whenever she got onto him about how he wasn't trying his best, he apologized ( _very_ sarcastically), saying he was sorry he was struggling to make himself genuinely try to stab her. He kept stuttering in his movements at first, couldn't help himself from, you know, not _actually_ trying his best to kill her. Every time he hesitated though, she would do something like steal the knife from his hand and hold it to his throat, or, y'know, knee him in the stomach. After so many times of himself getting hurt, he was finally able to let go during these sparring sessions, trusting her when she said she'd be able to dodge all his genuine strikes when he went all out.

It had taken a couple days to get him out of that habit, of holding back ("This practice won't help when you're not fighting like you would in a real battle, Peter"), but they got there.

* * *

Gamora narrowed her eyes, sizing up her opponent. After their blades had clashed they both jumped apart, preparing for the next strike. They'd been training for half an hour, and it showed. Even with her hair tied back in a very tactical vantage braid, she still had strands plastered to her face in sweat, not to mention the mess at the base of her head that just felt like it was soaking up every droplet that trickled down the back of her neck.

Peter wasn't faring much better. His messy curls were damp and paired with a sweat slick brow that he kept wiping with the back of his hand (while holding the dagger).

They were both breathing heavy as they circled around each other, looking for openings.

When she spotted one, she lunged.

Peter blocked her oncoming strike before deflecting the blade in her other hand with the two in his with a maneuver she taught him yesterday, which he completed quite seamlessly. Well, his technique was a little open and sloppy, but it was still quite impressive considering she showed him that move and sequence only the day before.

In a split second he made a quick slash that had her jumping back to evade, going for a dodge instead of a block since she didn't have time.

She _really_ hoped that he didn't notice the small tear his knife created on her shirt because she knew he would never let her live it down if he realized that actually landed.

It was just a small rip at the bottom of her shirt because she was a millisecond too late with her dodge. If he asked about it, maybe she could convince him it was already there.

They both relaxed their stance as they backed up to the edge of the rope, clearly needing a little time out for a breather on their opposite sides. (Peter had called it a 'makeshift boxing ring' though that had confused Drax to no end since the barriers around them were in the shape of a square, not a circle).

When he saw Gamora frowning mega hard from across the ring though, he threw his hands up in the air. "Oh come on! Why are you frowning at me now? You know I nailed that!"

"You did," she said, brows furrowing and frown deepening. " I didn't expect you to pick this up this quickly." She looked at him almost warily, clearly displeased with the _astounding_ progress he's made.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He still didn't know what her problem was.

She looked startled then, like she hadn't realize she said anything outloud until he responded to her. Gamora cast her gaze away, avoiding his eyes almost sheepishly, looking embarrassed and maybe the slightest bit guilty.

"What?" He asked, cause clearly something was on her mind- something she wasn't telling him.

Gamora shifted nervously on her feet. "I may have slightly exaggerated the necessity of these training sessions to use them as an excuse to be close to you, but you're learning too quickly as is."

She at least had the decency to look a little guilty about basically making it all up. Yeah, it was true that his close range skills could use a little work, but her insistence was laid on a little thick for her ulterior motive, apparently. But she'd been working him to the bone lately- he had muscles aching that he didn't even know he _had_ at the end of every day.

"Seriously?" Peter sounded exasperated and definitely not amused. "Normally I'd think that was cute, but you had to put us through this completely overkill workout routine instead of just asking to cuddle? You," he accused, pointing his knife out to her, "need to work on your communication skills."

"It wasn't that intentional!" Gamora tried to defend herself. "It wasn't that- that deliberate. It wasn't until I noticed I was disappointed with how fast you were learning just now that I realized my reasoning may have come from that instead of actual necessity." She was almost pouting, crossing her arms, somehow looking both guilty and indignant at the same time.

"You," he said again, emphasizing with another stab of his knife in her direction, "are a menace."

He's been sore for two weeks from these sparring sessions. Plus, he'd been trying much harder than he usually does on things, cause this is Gamora, and swords are her thing, and right now he was just hot, sweaty, and exhausted.

She looked like she was about to protest or something, about how she didn't mean to make him upset or whatever, and looked like she really did feel bad about it now, but he didn't want to hear it.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he declared, dropping his knives on the mat and slipping out from between the ropes. "Meet me on the couch in two hours. I don't even wanna see your face until then," he said before turning around and promptly walking off, already tugging off his sweat soaked shirt for the long shower he was _so_ ready for before he was even out of her sight.

Gamora made her way over to his side of the mat, stooping down to retrieve the knives he had dropped to put them away for proper storage, along with her own. She left the ring with a smile on her face.

* * *

 **AN: In case it wasn't clear, they're meeting on the couch in two hours to cuddle.**


End file.
